Hold Me Together
by JohnnyIsMyGoldSunset
Summary: The blade of reality has pierced holes in his life since a young age. But another's innocence seems to bandage the wounds. And that innocence is what held him together all these years. Even when he's falling apart. Story of Dallas and Johnny. No slash.
1. Close, Yet Far

Hey y'all. I'm having a good time working on Love Ain't So Easy right now, (which should be updated soon), but I wanted to do a story showing the best of Dally's and Johnny's relationship. There's gonna be a lot of chapters of little, fluffy friendship stories, as well as dramatic major events. This first chapter is half and half. Please review and enjoy!

Part 1: Soda's only a major in the first part of this chapter because he'll introduce Johnny to the gang later. I'm making Johnny meet the gang when he's 9 years old in this one. This part is based around innocence.

Part 2: I added more details to Dally's life using hints from the book. This part…well, I think you can guess what it shows.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders or Royal Tailor's song title "Hold Me Together," but I do own this story.

**Hold Me Together**

"Alright, boys and girls, get into pairs to work on the warm-up."

Sodapop Curtis hated the warm-ups. He always relied on whoever his partner was that day to do most of the work. Because of that fact, many of the other 9-year-olds began switching up their partners and working with new people. That was hard for Soda; he didn't have any friends in the classroom he was stuck in all day anyway, and the ones he seemed to be making began working with other kids when they caught onto Soda's warm-up style. They were the kids that always finished their warm-ups first. They were the kids in the expensive-looking clothes.

Sodapop surveyed the scene for somebody else to work with instead. All of the students had partners and were busy doing the math problems on the sheet. Ms. Carson came up and tapped Soda on his shoulder. He immediately turned to face her.

"Why don't you work with Johnny, Sodapop?" She pointed to a boy in the back of the room that Sodapop had never talked to before. The boy with the shaggy, black hair and the biggest eyes Soda had ever seen.

He nodded and shuffled to the back desk, taking a seat next to the black-eyed boy. Soda looked at him inquisitively, and the boy looked back at him timidly, not saying a word.

This went on for a few minutes until Soda finally cracked a grin and giggled, "You sure are good at 'staring contests'." Soda never really realized that Johnny was never actually staring at him.

Johnny smiled shyly, thinking that he finally got to participate in one of those 'staring games' he'd always seen other kids his age playing. He was pleased that the first one he thought he took a part in ended in him winning.

Sodapop smiled back. "I'm Sodapop Patrick Curtis," he introduced himself fearlessly, using his middle name because it made him feel grown-up, "but you can call me Soda. Who are you?" Soda had already forgotten that Ms. Carson had told him the boy's name.

"Johnny Cade," Johnny replied quietly, trying to make eye contact with the talkative boy. Besides being naturally shy, Johnny had always been self-conscious of his eyes. He never saw anybody with eyes as dark as his. Was that why the other kids ignored him? Because his eyes were different? Johnny's father usually ignored him, which made Johnny, being a child and not knowing any better, think that it was because of his uncommon eyes, which were so different from his father's blue ones. Johnny longed for blue eyes to make his father happy.

"Ain't you quiet? What's your whole name? I like to know everybody's." Soda wanted to know as much as he could about somebody, so he could sound smart and show off to the other boys.

"Johnathon Timothy Cade," Johnny replied, a little shocked that anybody cared. Johnny would never ask a personal question like that when he had just met somebody. He probably wouldn't ask a close friend that either. Not that he'd ever experienced a close friend.

"Never heard that one yet. I know lots of people's names. Darrel Shaynne Curtis Jr. Ponyboy Michael Curtis…" Soda flaunted.

Johnny hardly believed that Sodapop actually knew anybody with those names. Oblivious to the fact that Soda shared the same last name with the two names he'd mentioned, Johnny confronted Soda about it, "You're makin' those up, ain't you?" Johnny was amazed that Sodapop could come up with such original names so quick.

"No, I ain't. Those're my brothers' names. For real," Soda nodded his head seriously. He was surprised that Johnny didn't believe the names he'd heard for as long as he could remember were real. Were they strange?

"Oh," Johnny said, curiosity sparkling in his dark eyes.

"How many brothers and sisters do you have?" Sodapop asked, trying to get as much information out of this boy as possible.

"Ummm…zero," Johnny answered.

"Whoa, that's not many at all! I have two," Soda accidentally held up three fingers, but he quickly glanced at his hand and put the other one down.

Johnny laughed at his mistake, thinking he did it on purpose to be funny, (even though Soda didn't).

"Do you wanna come over and play with me after school?" Soda asked happily.

"Okay."

"Will your mom and dad be okay with that?" Sodapop remembered that his parents would be upset if he went anywhere without telling them, and he assumed this was the case for any other kids his age.

"Ummm…yeah," Johnny said hesitantly, a little embarrassed to tell Soda that they never cared where he was.

"Okay," Soda said cheerfully.

The boys decided to work on the math problems, but Sodapop kept chatting away about his horse as Johnny struggled through the work. Ms. Carson checked their warm-up and impatiently announced that the boys only got one out of the five problems right. The boys blushed in humiliation when she said this, but even after that, they still wanted to be partners everyday.

After much tedious work in the classroom, Soda ran up to Johnny before he left to go home, "Wanna walk to my house with me?"

Johnny nodded contentedly and both boys started off to Soda's house, kicking stones along the gravel path in front of Soda's front yard.

"Boy," Sodapop smiled optimistically, "I don't mind warm-ups so much anymore." Soda was glad to have somebody who liked him to talk to in place of doing the work he hated so much.

"Me either," Johnny agreed innocently, delighted to have a friend as well.

New York, 2:00 a.m.

"Hey kid! Get back here!"

The towheaded boy flew along the New York sidewalk as fast as his legs would take him. The sirens and flashing lights shrieked behind him as one of the policemen yelled at him out of the window.

"Blasted fuzz," Dallas muttered as the cop car inched further towards him. The paper bag he clutched was filled with money to the rim, while his six-inch switchblade he used for threatening was jammed deep into his back pocket.

The blond boy had spent his early years living in a low-class neighborhood in Tulsa with a father who worked non-stop and didn't care about his son's safety at all. After his father moved to New York for work and dragged Dally along, the situation was still the same. Being left alone all the time gave Dally the freedom to travel the town and cause trouble anywhere he could. Dallas wasn't stupid, he knew he wasn't wanted at home, and no matter how often he denied the lonely feelings that came with it, it was eating away at him. The violent emotions he always carried had him growing up on the streets, breaking laws right and left, but never getting caught. This time was different.

He ran many blocks, unaware of where he was going, but he knew he had to lose the police. Dally was a lot farther ahead than the cops were and he smiled at his rebellion of running from the law. But he was still a kid. And that childish instinct told him to stop in his tracks and tease the police. He couldn't control the temptation to do it; he'd never gotten caught and this little stunt surely wouldn't be the one to get him arrested.

Dallas suddenly skidded to a halt and spun around to face the oncoming car that was many feet from him. He stuck out his tongue and made faces at the police, laughing and mocking their helplessness in the situation. "Suckers!"

Before Dally could move, another police car came screeching around the back of him and the first one pulled up next to it. A couple cops came out and cornered Dally against the wall. Dally gulped nervously, this being the first time he'd experienced being under arrest. A dark-haired policeman pulled out the handcuffs and threatened him with all of that, "put your hands up" and "anything you say can and will be used against you" stuff that Dally knew from all of the crime movies he'd ever seen. But he didn't think it would actually happen to him. And he was scared. Scared stiff.

Before he knew it, the police were taking the handcuffs off him, confiscating the money and weapon from him, and locking him into a big, dark cell. A big, dark cell with no cellmate. Just a little, blond boy who never thought he'd actually end up there. Dallas heard the dark-haired cop mutter to the other, "I hate to do it; he's only ten years old."

Dally realized what he was in for then. He was locked in a cell all by himself and wouldn't do anything he liked to do or leave the jail site for months. The thought struck him as the worst thing that could happen to a kid his age. Dally sat in the dark, crying quietly, feeling a little bit of regret for what he did. Nobody could save him. Daddy couldn't save him, and probably wouldn't even if he got the chance.

He briskly wiped off the tears that streamed down his cheeks, but new ones took the others' places. He was the helpless one now. He was afraid to think about what his future would be and he was terrified to be sitting there alone in the dark, with nobody to save him. Nobody could rescue him, and that was when Dallas made the most life-altering decision of his life. He didn't need anyone to save him. He could save himself.

Dallas remembered the tough guys in the crime movies he loved. They never needed to survive on others' affection. They had their street-smarts, and they never got hurt. _If you hardened yourself beyond caring, you'd never get hurt_, was the motto they seemed to base their lives around. And Dally would do the same. He wanted to emanate toughness and become hard to protect himself from the hurt he'd been exposed to for so long.

"If you get tough, nothin' can touch you…" he muttered to himself, with a dangerous smile others would become very familiar with. The tears stopped flowing and that's exactly what he did. Got tough and cold.

Dallas didn't know it then, but somebody could melt away the ice. Somebody could hold his wounds together.

And that somebody was closer than he thought.


	2. Sick of New York

Hey guys. Okay, I don't really have anything to say except that in the last chapter, "If you get tough, nothin' can tough you…" was supposed to be, "If you get tough, nothin' can touch you." I think I fixed it, but I'm not sure if it worked. Enjoy and leave a review of what you think.

I hope when you read this that you guys are entertained with Dally, but at the same time, are a little sad of what a thirteen-year-old is doing to survive in this fallen world. But please don't pity. Remember what Ponyboy said: "I'd rather have anybody's hate than their pity."

**Hold Me Together**

Winston. People knew that name now. Dallas Winston. They knew it too well.

The blond boy thrown in jail three years earlier wasn't a 'boy' anymore. His exposure to the way of survival in New York demolished any innocence left in him. The decision he made the first time he was jailed was only the beginning. Dally definitely followed through with it when he got out.

Even though he was only thirteen, Dally was leader of his rough gang, all made up of boys living on the wild side of New York. He took orders from nobody; he gave the orders around them. And they all were obedient to Dallas because they'd learned their lessons when questioning his authority.

"C'mon, if we go through this alley, we'll come out the other end an' pull a surprise attack on 'em," Dally motioned to his gang. They'd been outnumbered and beaten by the opposing gang a while ago, and Dally was not about to let that happen again in the fight that was imminent. He thought about the long scar that ran across his forehead that his bangs covered up. No, it wouldn't happen again.

Everybody began following Dally into the shadows, except one.

"Ya comin' or what?" Dally whispered harshly from the darkness.

"I dunno…we should take the other alley and not pull the surprise attack…I bet they've been expectin' it for awhile," the sixteen-year-old suggested bravely. The other guys stared at him wide-eyed. They knew Dally was in a dangerous mood right now. That kid knew better.

Dally was fuming and slowly walked out under the street light. He cocked an eyebrow in disapproval and stared the kid down. Dally wanted to put the kid in his place real good, but he knew the other gang would hear him if he did that. It took everything in him to decide not to pummel the kid right then and there.

"Who's in charge of this attack? Who made the plan? Who?" he questioned too calmly.

"Uh…you?" the kid replied, regretting that he even brought the idea up. He'd seen what Dally did to the last kid that didn't follow him obediently and without protest. That kid limped away as fast as he could as Dally stood there, his arms crossed and a grin of triumph on his face. Twisted triumph.

Dally flipped that same six-inch blade from three years ago out in front of the kid's face. "Hmmm….guess what? You're right!" Dally growled through clenched teeth and immediately cussed the kid out. "An' since I'm in charge, I don't wanna hear a sound outta you! Ya got that?" The kid nodded desperately and Dally shoved the blade back into his jeans pocket.

The gang snuck through the alley and beside the trash cans as quietly as possible until they saw an opening up ahead. A large group of boys stood on the sidewalk, smoking and talking about what kind of trouble each of them were planning on causing that night. Dally listened to their plans and thought of them scornfully as amateurs. One kid mentioned he might rob a store.

"Yeah, but you better not hit the convenience store down the street. Word's goin' 'round that Dallas Winston just knocked that one off. Ain't gonna be barely no money left there," a slim, red-haired kid pointed out.

The leader of their gang, a dark-haired kid in a leather jacket, scoffed. Dally was about to pull the attack, when he heard something that made him stop in his tracks.

"'Course Dallas coulda knocked that place off. Don't take much skill. I done it tons of times. You boys don't think that some farm boy from Oklahoma could do much more damage than that, do ya?" He and the other boys snickered at the thought of what they were supposedly up against. One by one, they thought of different insults that added on to Dally's being from Oklahoma.

Dallas froze, wide-eyed. He'd heard a lot of stuff around New York, but this kind of stunned him. They thought he was a pathetic, naive, Southern farm boy? He knew he was the farthest thing from a pathetic farm boy, and he thought he'd done a good job of proving it those past three years, but he felt that it might have bothered him that others thought that. He didn't really know what he felt. Sadness, humiliation, anger? Of course, Dally only recognized the emotion of anger; that one he knew. He knew what it was like to hate someone so much or be so mad at someone that you felt like a bottomless pit of fury.

The other two weren't so familiar. Dallas hadn't felt sadness or humiliation since three years ago when he was tossed into the jail cell like a bag of garbage, and nobody could help him out of that one. Dally blocked out those feelings. He felt like he was more than just angry, but the other feelings were unreadable since they were missing pieces of the puzzle that made up Dally, or a normal person at that. He didn't try to identify them. He just left it at anger.

The anger that he suddenly allowed to overthrow the rest of him caused him to take off running out of the alley so he could make them pay for what they'd said about him. One of the guys in Dally's gang signaled for him to get back to the hiding spot. "What're you doin'? What about the attack?"

"Forget it!" Dally called back and upped his pace a bit. His footsteps were all that were heard on the concrete, besides bouts of laughter coming from the other gang. Suddenly, they heard the pounding of feet and turned in shock to see Dally rushing towards them, with his blond bangs flowing out of his face from the oncoming wind. The leader of the gang stood facing Dally and gave an overconfident smile that clearly said, "Come an' get me." And Dally obeyed without a second thought.

…

One of they guys was pulling Dally's hair and practically on top of him while Dally was slugging the daylights out of the red-haired kid when they all heard the sirens. The dark-haired kid's gang took off, flying down the road to avoid being jailed. Dally remembered that he'd just gotten out of the cooler days ago and wasn't really itching to go back, so he dashed in the same direction as the other gang.

He ran four blocks before he stopped at and entered another alley between two buildings. Dally straightened up against the rough, brick wall to keep out of the blinding headlights when the police car came rushing by with sirens blaring, still thinking he was darting up the street. Dally smirked in relief, "Stupid fuzz dunno who they're up against."

Dally knew that that wasn't it for him, though. Just because he outran the police that time didn't mean that they weren't going to be looking for him for a long time. Then he came to the thought that he'd been through this one too many times. What was the problem? He always liked the rush he got when escaping the cops, even if he'd done it thousands of times. He then realized it was the setting. He'd been causing trouble on the wild side of New York for three years now. Well, at least the time in between when he was out of prison.

Dally was a person who could take certain routines for a long time, but when he got sick of them, he made hasty decisions and made different habits to replace the old ones. And he was sick of the routine of running down the concrete sidewalk in New York. He was sick of being in the same dark jail cell in New York. And he was sick of dealing with the gang rivalry in New York (he'd already shown them all, even that dark-haired kid's gang, that he was a fighter and no farm boy, so there wasn't anything to prove to them).

Dallas remembered that old place the dark-haired kid had mentioned he was from. Oklahoma. It'd seemed like forever since the day he moved from that town he recalled was named Tulsa. He hadn't caused much trouble there anyway, but he knew that he could still remember his way around the town.

_My old man wouldn't care anyway…_

That's where Dally decided to head off to. He saw all the details laid out in front of him: a tough gang and the same freedom that he had in New York to do anything he pleased. That would get him to the top like it had in New York.

But he left out one crucial detail, even if he didn't know about it yet.


	3. Just a Smile

So, it's been forever since I updated on this, but better late then never, I guess. Not much to say, but enjoy the story! Drop me off a review, 'cause I worked my butt off on this ;)

The little break thingy in the story is going into third person that's based around Dally's thoughts.

**Hold Me Together**

The first time Johnny saw _his_ face, he didn't know what to expect. Was _he_ supposed to smile the way _he_ did then? Or maybe _he_ should've just stood, straight-faced, looking ahead at him, like _he_ didn't care. Did it really matter?

_Johnny sat on the first step of the front porch, watching the smoke from his cigarette slowly scatter and dissipate throughout the frigid air. Thinking back on how he even got there, he remembered it started on a day like this. A cold, October day when that little kid with the dark gold hair strutted up to him and instantly made conversation. Later that evening, Johnny first met Soda's brothers and his other friends. There was Ponyboy, the little seven-year-old chewing on the corner of his sleeve and reading a book that seemed a little too thick for a second grader. He looked up curiously, very quickly, and then returned his focus back to reading. Johnny knew he said "Hi." Then Darry, showing a slight smile, introduced himself and started a conversation with Soda. Johnny looked up at him with intrigued eyes; he was pretty tall. Keith, or as they called him, Two-Bit, came prancing in the door shortly after and immediately made a big show of his introducing himself to Johnny. Johnny watched him happily as the redhead made such an idiot of himself, grinning the entire time. Soda's best buddy, Steve, followed behind Two-Bit. He ruffled the kid's hair and was pretty nice, but seemed pretty overprotective of Soda the entire time._

Okay_, Johnny made a small mental note. _Watch out for Steve…

_Yeah, they had pretty good times playing poker, watching movies, or even just looking at each other miserably on dreary, rainy days. Johnny didn't think any of this could get better. He had a true group of friends under the unofficial leadership of Darry, whom nobody seemed to question (which was fine with Johnny). In the flash of lightning, without warning, it would change._

_One day, the door flew open like usual as Darry came home from his part-time job, noticing his parents weren't home. Johnny didn't bother to even glance up, it was practically the routine. But he finally looked over his shoulder when he heard some unfamiliar voice in the hallway. _

_Before Johnny could make out the face, Darry came in. "Hey, y'all, this- Two-Bit will ya turn off the TV and listen to me for once?" Darry groaned, "This is Dallas. Dallas, Ponyboy. Ponyboy, Dallas…" Johnny stopped listening and studied Dally's features as Darry droned on and on. Gosh, was his hair blond; blond unlike Johnny had ever seen. He liked it; it was so different. His eyes were real light blue too, the color of a cloudless sky. He had a real pointed face and was kinda tall, not as tall as Darry, but what Johnny would consider pretty tall. He looked cold and tough, like the kinda guy who wouldn't waste a moment of his life on someone. Johnny was thoroughly intimidated._

_He blinked twice when he heard Darry. "Johnny, Dallas. Dallas, Johnny." Johnny didn't know what to do, so he just glanced up at him shyly. There was no telling what Dallas would do next, but he just smiled. Like a real smile somebody gives when they're contemplating someone. And Johnny just smiled back. _

Now, a day after this, Johnny was taking a walk down the sidewalk, just to be doing something. When he looked, his shadow on the sidewalk seemed to slowly become towered by another. As the shadow seemed to sneak up closer behind him, Johnny's heart raced. No, he'd never been jumped and he didn't want to start today. He'd heard stories of what a beating from the Socs did to you, and he couldn't take that. _Not today_, he whispered.

As he turned around to face his fears, his heart flooded with relief to recognize it was only that kid, Dallas. Dallas smiled kind of tilted. "Glory, you gonna pass out, kid? Didn't even think I startled ya."

Johnny took a deep breath. "Uh, no, I'm fine. Just didn't know who it was, is all."

Dally seemed to size him up. "Johnny, right? I am right, ain't I?"

Johnny's eyes widened. "Uh, yeah…Dallas…?"

Dally almost laughed at his uncertainty. "Winston. But Dally's good if you can remember that."

Dallas Winston. Johnny liked that name; it fit together real well. "Yeah, I can remember," he smiled.

"Good. So, uh, how old are you?"

"Twelve."

"Oh, 'kay, I'm thirteen. So, y'know, a year apart. You gotta last name, kid?"

"Cade."

"Never heard that one yet. Kinda fits together, don't it?"

"Yeah, it does." _Where is he from?_ Johnny thought. He had the most unusual accent.

Johnny turned away from Dally's stare, but he continued to size up the kid. He was kind of small, not short, just small. His hair and eyes were jet black and his skin tan. Dallas at that moment realized they were polar opposites: him with dark hair and eyes, both light for Dallas. Him with a slight-build, Dallas' a bit larger. Him quiet, Dallas loud. _Yeah, well, uh…I could change that, _Dally thought dryly. But one thing was, without his knowing, bothering him. Those eyes...

No conversation. "So, I guess ya know that Darry guy."

Johnny raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, we met awhile ago."

After an awkward silence, Johnny cocked his head. "Um, how did _you_ know him?"

Dally grinned wolfishly. "Shoot, kid. I was in a fight." He left it at that, but the arrogant air of his voice just made him feel unsurpassable toughness. He noticed Johnny didn't seem as amused as he was himself. _Well, another opposite_, he supposed.

"You ever been in a real fight, kid?" _This should be good, _he grinned.

"Yeah, I mean, if rumbles count, I guess. Not much else, though."

"A _what_?"

"A rumble, y'know?" Johnny gave him an incredulous look. Why was he so clueless?

"Yeah. No, I _don't_ know," Dally answered impatiently. He'd never heard of such a thing.

Dally was starting to convince himself he'd entered a new time period without his knowing, when Johnny looked curiously at him. "Where are you from?" He tried not to sound nosy.

Dally wasn't truly planning on telling anybody this information. He knew clearly well that if he told now, the secret would be out. But, gosh, the interest sparkling in this kid's eyes could get him to say _anything._

"Well, if ya wanna know, New York. But don't say nothin' about it, okay?"

_That explains the way he talks, _Johnny thought. But he was kind of honored to be the only one let in on this little secret.

"Got it," he said, looking admirably up to Dallas.

Dally smiled, but he wasn't positively sure why. But then again, did it really matter?


	4. His Purpose

Thanks for all the reviews, guys! They are always welcomed, of course. Also, I'm gonna start adding lyrics at the top or bottom of the page or throughout the story from the songs I love that relate to these two. Lyrics will be in bold. Okay, well, on with the story!

**Hold Me Together**

"So, what d'you wanna do?" Dally sighed.

It was one of those days when everybody seemed to be busy but you. Mr. and Mrs. Curtis took their three boys somewhere out-of-town. Two-Bit was babysitting his kid sister and nobody knew where Steve was. This left Johnny and Dally sitting on the sidewalk, silently begging for time to go faster.

Johnny shrugged. "I dunno." Just as he threw a rock across the road, a truck came speeding by. As the rock smacked off the truck's door, the driver shot him a dirty look.

Johnny looked stunned. "Oops…" he said guiltily and glanced at Dally.

Dally looked at Johnny expressionless for a moment. Then he smiled one of those tilted smiles and just laughed. And laughed.

He caught his breath. "Wow, that was the best thing that happened all day."

"It was, wasn't it?" Johnny agreed.

"Yeah, pretty sad, ain't it? Let's go get a Coke," Dally suggested and he started down the sidewalk.

Halfway to the drugstore, Johnny heard Dally scoff. "Who're the pansies in the madras?"

"Socs."

"How come I never know what you talk about?"

Johnny didn't reply. They ordered their Cokes and sat down at the counter. Dally gave Johnny one of those "I'm waiting" looks.

"It's short for 'the Socials'. They live on the West Side; like the rich part of the town. And they jump greasers a lot." Johnny added softly.

"Yeah, and here comes one now," Dally turned his head in the direction of the footsteps.

"Hey, greasers," the Soc said too nicely and walked over next to the counter. Johnny's eyes widened and Dally watched him hatefully: _Who's this punk think he is?_

He casually leaned against the counter and knocked over Dally's Coke. "Oops," he said with fake regret.

Now, what happened next would forever change Johnny's image of Dallas Winston. Johnny knew Dally seemed cold, but that was an understatement. He watched nervously for Dally's true fire to come out.

Dally squinted. "You wanna back off, pal, and go back to your prissy lil' friends over there? They sure look like they're gettin' real lonely without ya," he snapped.

"You're real funny. I've never seen you before. Must've been hidin' out on the East Side with the rest of the white trash, huh?" He spit in Dally's direction.

Dally looked at him with such hatred that Johnny could barely breathe out of fear for what would happen next. But Dallas didn't mutter a word. He eyed the Soc and slugged him square in the face. People around kind of gasped and began whispering to each other. The Soc's friends made their way over with scowls on their faces.

Before a full-blown fight could break out, the manager sent the two greasers out of the store. Johnny wasn't surprised. That's how it always worked. As they rushed out, Johnny saw the manager sympathetically hand the Soc a wet towel for his bloody nose. He heard a piece of what the manager was bitterly saying. "…Always causing trouble…"

Dally looked at the kid. Johnny put on a translucent strong front and smiled up at Dally, but he couldn't disguise the nervous expression in his dark eyes. Neither of them knew what to say.

"Uh, Johnny…" Dally got a pang of what he thought was guilt. Of course he wasn't positive, because all he seemed to know was anger, but it didn't leave. He felt kind of…bad…because he caused Johnny those feelings. Real bad.

"Johnny, did I, uh, scare ya?" he questioned softly. What was he talking about? He shouldn't care. But why did he?

Johnny looked up at him, startled and a little confused. "Um, no, it's okay."

"Ya sure?" _What's wrong with you?_ Dally mentally scolded himself.

Johnny smiled admirably up at him. "Yeah, I mean, you kinda…saved me-I mean, us."

By that time they ended up in the empty lot and Dally sat down, followed by Johnny. Johnny shivered as the cold, autumn wind whipped through the air.

Dally pulled a pack of Kools out from his pocket. "Where's your coat, kid? Don't your parents care if you freeze out here?" Dally almost smacked himself for his making his concern obvious. _Stop it, Dallas! It ain't your problem,_ he screamed in his head.

"No," Johnny sniffed and looked at the ground, thinking of the miserable excuses for parents he called "Mom and Dad".

"Well, how come?" Dally urged him on, lighting up.

Johnny momentarily closed his eyes. "I-I don't know…"

Dallas was about to impatiently demand more from the kid, but he stopped. He thought about his own dad, the way he didn't give a hang about his son. The way he would come home from work late at night and absentmindedly grab a beer, not even noticing Dally wasn't there. And Dally didn't know why his father hated him.

He turned his attention to the cut on Johnny's forehead that would usually have been covered up by his bangs from any other angle. He scowled, knowing exactly why it was there without anybody telling him.

"Don't care what happens to ya, right? Seems like it's the same sob story for everyone," he snapped out of anger for Johnny's parents. It took him a few moments to realize he was talking about himself as well.

But Johnny knew what he meant. He knew Dally got him, at least in that sense. But he couldn't wrap his mind around what they did to deserve it. "How come?"

Dally bit his lip, realizing his previous statement showed that he _did_ care. "I dunno, kid, but it don't bother me none. Probably 'cause I was just another one of those 'mistake' kids you hear people complainin' about," he laughed slightly. But he was lying. It did bother him a little bit; it made him mad.

Johnny remembered something the priest had said when he used to go to church, when he was young. He gathered up all the courage in his body and looked Dallas in the eye innocently, "Nobody's a mistake. Everybody's got a purpose, Dally."

Dally looked at him, speechless, as if he'd been ten years older than twelve. His heart softened, much to his displeasure.

But his purpose was to be Johnny's guardian angel. And Johnny's purpose was to be his bandage; the one who kept him alive and sane.

"**We were made for each other. Out here forever. I know we were."**

**~_When You're Gone_, Avril Lavigne**


	5. The Tree

I recently saw the song "Hold Me Together" live in concert. Pretty epic! Oh, please, if you read, leave a review. You don't know how much that'd mean. This story literally means the world to me.

**Hold Me Together**

"**And if I promise you that I'll be back someday, will you set me free so I can fly away?"**

**~_Fly Away_, Sugarland**

Dally didn't know Tulsa had a park. Well, every town had a park, even in New York. That he knew. But he wasn't too familiar with parks, to put it simply.

Johnny loved the park. It was the one he and Ponyboy used to go to frequently. Being he and Ponyboy were its regular visitors, he decided to share their secret place with Dallas.

Dallas grimaced when Johnny brought it up. Parks were those places were sweaty toddlers played and threw grass at each other. Parks were those places where the sun was too hot and butterflies fluttered by. That wasn't gonna work for Dally.

But he trudged along with Johnny and rolled his eyes at the thought of what the day entailed.

A sigh. "There yet?"

Johnny glanced at Dally mysteriously. "Not yet, Dally. Almost." He wrung his hands together in ecstasy. Johnny couldn't wait to reveal this simple gift to his new friend.

He pointed up ahead. "Here."

Dally cocked an eyebrow. Johnny was right, it was small. There were a couple of trees and a large open space of dewy grass. No toddlers, so Dally thought this a good sign.

Dally sighed. "Alright kid. Ya dragged me here, so now what?"

Johnny smirked. "Well, me an' Pony climb the tree first."

Dally scoffed and pointed to the pipsqueak tree in the distance. "Challenging'," Dally said sarcastically.

"No, not that tree. _That _one." Johnny moved Dally's arm to the left. He was now pointing to a tree that was about twice his five foot six stature.

Dally muttered a curse. "Ya sure it's _that _one?"

"Yup. C'mon, Dally!" Johnny was bouncing up and down with anticipation. _If only he knew what was at the top, _Johnny thought.

"Alright, alright! Just relax," Dally gave in reluctantly. He stood up a little straighter, looked a little prouder, trying to hide the doubt he had in himself. _C'mon, Dally, you climbed a ladder into a fourth floor. This is nothin'_, he assured himself.

Dally was about to begin, but he turned to face Johnny. "Uh, why don'tcha lead. You've climbed it before, ain't ya?"

Johnny smiled, honored to be selected to be the leader. "Yeah, I have."

Dally moved back, a little awkwardly out of embarrassment. Johnny made it all the way up to the tenth branch, glancing down at Dally arrogantly because he felt like such a professional at this. Trying to show that the task was effortless, Johnny reached for the eleventh branch while still looking down. He thought the branch was under his foot and took a step.

Johnny came tumbling down in a split second. He didn't have time to scream, or be scared, just to pray it wouldn't hurt when his body came into contact with the ground.

Dally could only react by instinct. He reached out, in attempt to catch Johnny, when Johnny came crashing down on him at full force. After what felt like a couple seconds, Dally opened his eyes and moaned. He pushed Johnny's limp body off of his.

"Johnny. Hey, Johnny." He shook Johnny violently.

Johnny stirred and propped himself onto his elbows. "That was a hard fall," he mumbled.

"Yeah, on me." Dally muttered irritably and rubbed his side where it hurt. He lifted his hand to see the familiar sight of blood.

"Aw, shoot, Johnny! Why were ya lookin' down! I'm bleedin' and you coulda killed yourself," Dally questioned impatiently. He couldn't think of one good reason why any of this had to happen.

Johnny sulked at being scolded. He was drawn to Dally for some strange reason; Dally was cool and tough without even trying. Johnny didn't think the same for himself. If he wanted to look cool or tough, he could real quick, but he didn't naturally emanate either trait. And now he just looked stupid.

Dally stretched out his legs and continued attempting to stop the bleeding with his hand. He glanced at Johnny and everything inside him ached. But not from the fall.

"Johnny, why were you lookin' down?" he asked firmly, poking Johnny in the arm.

"I'm sorry. I was just tryin' to impress you, I guess. It's all my fault," Johnny responded quietly. He knew he had to be blushing.

"No, it ain't" -Dally roughly lifted Johnny's chin and met his eyes- "and _don't _be tryin' to impress me. 'Kay?"

Johnny nodded and looked into the blue orbs staring into his. Dally's eyes were bigger than Johnny remembered.

Dally surveyed the scene anxiously and shrugged. "Why were you tryin' to get me up there so bad anyway?"

Johnny smiled. "There's somethin' up there, Dally."

"Yeah?"

At that moment, two birds came flying out of the tallest point of the tree. Johnny focused his attention back to the blond. "Me and Pony've been watchin' the birds since they hatched. An' now they're old enough to fly away."

The innocence tugged at Dally's heartstrings. All Johnny was so desperately trying to show him was a pair of baby birds. All of this for a couple of robins. He couldn't remember a time when that would've been normal to him.

"They're like us, Dally, right? Old enough to fly away?" Johnny questioned.

Dally digested that statement. _No, not like you, Johnny. You sure ain't old enough to just 'fly away.' I 'flew away' a long time ago, kid. And trust me, you're better off just stayin' in the nest._

"Not exactly, Johnny."


End file.
